Conspiracy of the Heart
by indigosummersky
Summary: My first fanfic attempt. Please, constructive critiques only! Will be chaptered. B/E or B/J? Will remain to be seen...Stephenie Meyer, I absolutely adore your works and try to honor them by writing my tribute to your characters.
1. Chapter 1

I might look like a sweet little girl on the outside, but let me tell you, it's a totally different story on the inside.

Everyone thinks that the name, "Bella", means some mild-mannered, shy, meek little thing. So when I open my mouth, I am on the receiving end of some fairly offended looks. But that's the best thing about it. I can't stand pretentious facades, and it gives me a real kick to shock the hell out of people. Let them think I'm the waitress with a heart of gold that is just going to grovel and be sappy-sweet thankful for any little tip you condescend to leave me. Sometimes, I have to run back into the kitchen because I'm laughing too hard from the expressions on customers' faces.

I come from the school of hard knocks. I don't give a shit what you think of me. So don't think you can just wipe your ass on my hard-earned tip money when I just got through bending over backwards to make sure you got your drinks on time and that your food was fresh from the kitchen. I'm twenty-two years old and I support myself and my daughter on my waitress income and what I get from my student loans. I'm trying to finish up school, too. I don't have much left, and then I can kiss this crappy job goodbye. At least the tips are pretty good and the hours are flexible enough that I can work around my school schedule, and still be able to get a good babysitter for Renesmee.

That's my daughter's name. I named her by combining my two grandmothers' names, Renee and Esme. Those two women were responsible for any true upbringing I received, and from them I learned what I know about life. They alternated taking care of me when my mom would yet again run off with some sack of shit she picked up from who knows where. My real dad – I don't know what happened to him; no one would ever tell me, even his own mother. I quit asking questions about him when I was around 15, 16.

So, long story short as to how I came to be a momma: I made good grades all through school, earned scholastic scholarships, went to college, hooked up with a moron, got knocked up, moron disappeared, quit school, had baby, started working here at this sports bar/grill, and after Renesmee was a year old, I started getting all my ducks in a row to go back and finish school. Yes, I know, typical story, nothing new there. I would never regret my daughter, ever; but at the same time, yes, I know I am a statistic now.

So, there. Now you know about me. That was my life. Up to a certain point.

That certain point would be the night that I was working the six to midnight shift. It was a Saturday night, and it was October. College football is King in the fall months, on Saturday nights, and we were swamped. I was so busy running my legs off that by the time I noticed him, he had already turned the first page in the menu. And I thought it was just another customer at first, because his head was bowed down reading the menu.

I approached his table, and he looked up. I almost couldn't get my introduction out of my mouth when I looked in his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

It's a sad fact, I have this real problem with blushing. I don't get embarrassed or flustered very easily, but when I do, I turn beet-red from my hairline down to my collar. And that's what I did then.

I have never had any man look at me the way he did. And I get a lot of looks here at this place.

_Ok, _I reminded myself, _all men are pieces of crap that will just use you for one thing, and this one is no different. He still looks good enough to eat.....Hey, last time I checked I was still ALIVE...and what is it about his eyes...?_

Somehow or another I got myself under control enough to smile and say, "Hey, I'm Bella, and I'll be taking care of your order tonight". _ Or, for that matter, anything else you might want. Oh, God, Bella, shut up! _"Can I start you off with some chips and salsa, a 7 and 7 maybe?"

He continued to stare at me for maybe two or three more seconds. I just stood there with my pen and pad in my hand, smiling like a total idiot. Then he blinked his eyes and smiled back, saying, "I'm so sorry, I lost my train of thought for a moment. Thank you, Bella, I'll need just a few more moments to review the menu and then I'll be ready to order."

"Not a problem, I'll just check back with you in a few."

As quickly as I could, I walked back to the kitchen and went around the end of the dishwashing station, around a corner where the door was to the cooler. I was dizzy and breathless, and I swear my heard must have been galloping like it was racing the Kentucky Derby.

_He stared at me like – like - _

I couldn't bring myself to go_ there _and complete the rest of that thought. But in truth, he looked at me the way _he_ looked at me when we first started dating. Not a lewd, lip-licking stare; those I was accustomed to and I could deal with those (and did so quite vocally, pretty often, when the men who offered those stares often got the sharp end of my tongue for it).

This was a soul-piercing stare, the kind that looks right in to your heart and sees all its inner secrets, desires, wants, hopes, and dreams; the kind you only have maybe once or twice in your life. The kind of stare that literally gives you an electric zap right to the ol' ticker.

I turned from leaning my back against the cooler door, to where I had my forehead leaned to it. After closing my eyes for a minute or two, I was able to get my breathing and my pulse back under control, as well as bring my flushed face and neck back to their normal color, and headed on back out to the floor to check on my other tables and accidentally-on purpose meander my way back to this guy's table.

He smiled when he saw me come up to his table. "I'm sorry, you introduced yourself to me, and I should have done the same in turn. Please forgive my manners. My name is Edward. It's a pleasure to meet you."

My heart could have fallen out of my chest, right on to the floor. I'm sure I had drool hanging off my bottom lip. Embarrassing. It took all my control to smile back, and say, "That's okay, happens to the best of us. Do you want a drink?"

"Yes, could you please bring me a cup of coffee?"

"Not a prob. Anything to go with it?"

"No, thank you, black is fine."

"Then I'll be right back with your coffee, and you keep that menu there in case you want to order something to go along with it." _Dork. Why don't you just ask him if he wants sugar, Splenda, or Bella with that coffee? Just make a live offering of yourself to the bloodthirsty beast, and end up with another kid to take care of while he just makes off like it's a bright, sunshiny day! _

I walked off before my eyes reflected my thoughts. On the way I had a few other tables to check on and one table of about five drunk guys needed two pitchers of Bud Light ASAP, and Lord knows I didn't need them to get any louder, so I got them squared away before I could get that cup of coffee poured.

Finally, I got the cup filled and on its saucer, and headed back to the table where Mr. Dreamy Eyes was waiting.

I waited unti I got closer to his table before raising my eyes from the cup (a waitressing trick with full cups of hot coffee; don't take your eyes off it and use your peripheral vision until you are almost to your destination, then you can look up. Makes for a lot less sloshed and spilled hot drinks on you and your arms and clothes).

He was gone.

But he left $10.00 with a piece of paper folded next to it.


End file.
